


Reset

by 20poundsofcrazy



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (2016), Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - Ransom Riggs
Genre: Angst, Crossover, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, Nightmares, Possible Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Violence, and peggy while you're at it, but anyway you have been warned, idk i also have not written that far yet, just a lot of bad stuff happens, maybe more than some idk i haven't written that far yet, miss peregrine definitely shoots things with her crossbow, peggy carter is an ymbryne, some violence, someone please give miss peregrine a hug, the author is totally in love with alma lefay peregrine, the target audience is me, yes i am writing a crossover fic just so my two favourite characters can meet each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27637720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/20poundsofcrazy/pseuds/20poundsofcrazy
Summary: Peggy is an Ymbryne fighting in WW2 and running from the trauma of her past. She's sworn that she'll never set foot inside a loop or talk to another peculiar again, but when she's stationed on Cairnholm Island, it becomes much more difficult to hide from her birthright as a protector of peculiar children.
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Alma LeFay Peregrine
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	1. word travels fast

**Author's Note:**

> i came up with this idea and just had to write it! i know it's a kind of crazy crossover, but bear with me, i think it's going to turn out well. i absolutely love peggy and alma both, so i knew i needed to have them meet. as always, please leave a comment at the end saying what you liked or didn't like. i live for feedback lol. enjoy!!!

Rumors were beginning to circulate about the hawk who flew over the battlegrounds, and soon those rumors turned into legend. Some said she was an angel, watching over the soldiers. Others said she was a valkyrie, come to gather the souls of the valiant dead. Some thought she was just a regular old hawk, although they couldn’t explain how she followed their regiment everywhere. But everyone knew her. She was battleground lore. Peggy let them believe what they liked, never trying to discourage the legends. Some of them were even true, like the one about her stopping time and plucking every German bullet out of the air with her beak, though how the soldiers had witnessed it she didn’t know. They would never discover the truth, and besides, it was nice to be awarded some credit. She certainly didn’t get any recognition when she was in human form.

An Ymbrynes job was to settle down and set up a loop. Her job was to dedicate her life to collecting and protecting peculiar children. Peggy knew that, but she had never much been one to follow the rules. Besides, her talents were better spent here, helping the war effort. Both as a hawk and as a human, she was doing more to help people here than she ever would be if she just blindly followed the rules. Besides, no matter how strange it sounded, Peggy was safer on the battlefield, fighting an enemy she could see, than she ever would be in a loop. This was the secret she carried with her like a constant stone in her heart, a strand of hair in a locket, a whisper in the darkness: the loops were not as safe as everyone believed them to be. As she had believed them to be. So she was on the battlefield, slogging through mud and hiding in trenches and building up the callouses on her fingers from firing her rifle. She was damn good with a rifle. She wasn’t ever putting it down. 

At least, that wasn’t her intention. But as Peggy knew well, things can happen in just a split second that will change your world forever. 

She didn’t wake up feeling like her world was going to be forever altered, she woke up feeling like she was cold, and late for breakfast. Ramirez had a habit of “borrowing” her blanket when she was sleeping, as if once she was safely off in dreamland she was impervious to the freezing ribbons of air that snuck in through every crack in the drafty old barracks. Even though it was August, Wales was cold, at least in the nighttime. A damp sort of chill that worked its way into your bones and never really left. Peggy had wished a million times to be stationed anywhere else, but her regiment was something close to expendable, and besides, someone had to defend the weapons stash on the small island of Cairnholm. Why not them? 

Right now, though, all Peggy felt like defending was her blanket. She’d yelled at Ramirez for taking it on several occasions but he never listened to her. Maybe today she would make good on her offer to punch him, she thought as she drew her sheet up around her and climbed out of bed. 

“Ramirez, I swear to God, if you take my blanket one more time-” 

“Carter! Someone to see you!” It was the superior officer, sticking his head in through the door. Peggy yelped and pulled the sheet tighter, an involuntary response learnt from growing up with many other children. Your space was never truly your own, anyone could barge in at any minute; that rule applied in the army too. Not that it mattered much, she slept in her trousers and camisole, but it was a leftover reaction. 

“Just let me get dressed and I’ll be right out!” Peggy called, and he disappeared, letting the door slam shut behind him. 

She dove for her clothes, yanking on her uniform and doing up the shiny buttons with practiced speed. It wasn’t quite an air raid, but she didn’t like to keep people waiting, and she was starving. She paused in front of a small mirror which, contrary to popular belief, had not been her idea, and smoothed down her hair without bothering to brush it. Caring about appearances was yet another luxury, like sugar in tea, that simply could not be afforded during wartime, but it was nice to put in an effort every once in a while. 

As she stepped into the customary wall of fog that haunted every day in Wales, Peggy’s head spun with questions about who her visitor could be. Who would possibly want to see her? It couldn’t possibly be a peculiar, perhaps it was naive to think she was the only one in the army, but she had heard no other tales and news travelled fast through ranks and regiments. There was no one else who would have even heard of ymbrynes to make the connection. She hadn’t seen her mother in ages, although she wrote often. But Peggy regarded her mother as more of a familiar aunt, Miss Finch had been the one who had raised her. But it couldn’t be Miss Finch here to see her, because Miss Finch was dead. 

Peggy reached the lieutenant's office, where visitors were generally received because it was the nicest space in the camp. It was small but clean, cluttered with items that had become rare since the war had started: a silver container of sugar, a tin of biscuits that might even still be fresh. The lieutenant himself was nowhere to be found, but a woman was standing in front of his desk, silhouetted by the early morning light seeping through the small window. She was smoking a pipe, filling the room with exoticly scented smoke, and through it she cut a striking figure. Peggy knew almost instantly that she was a peculiar, and from there it wasn’t hard to guess what her peculiarity might be. 

“Who are you?” Peggy asked from the doorway, not bothering to hide the edge in her voice. The woman turned, removing the pipe from her mouth. 

“Agent Carter, lovely to finally meet you,” she said, letting smoke spill from her mouth along with her words. 

“How do you know my name?”

“So indecisive,” the woman exclaimed. “Do you want to know my name, or how I know yours?”

“How about both, and soon?” Peggy suggested. She was still standing stick straight in the doorway, trying her best to push away the memories of Miss Finch, of her childhood in the loop. Seeing another ymbryne was bringing it all back, although this one was about her age. Peggy wondered briefly if they’d ever met.

“Alright, alright,” the woman said. She transferred her pipe to her left hand and extended the right one for Peggy to shake. She didn’t.

“Miss Alma LeFay Peregrine. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” When Peggy still didn’t shake her hand, she let it drop to her side. “As for your second question, I know your name because I asked your buffoon of a lieutenant. I think he’d be rather happy to let me take you off his hands.”

“Nobody is letting you do anything,” Peggy growled. “I’m not going with you.” 

To her surprise, Miss Peregrine sat down heavily in the general’s chair, replacing her pipe in her mouth and puffing on it for a minute before speaking again.

“I’m afraid I’ve done this all wrong,” she said. Smoke was once again filling the room, and though her face was hazy through it, her dark lined eyes were piercing. “The truth is, Agent Carter, that I need your help.”

“My help? With what?”

“Defending my loop,” Miss Peregrine answered. “The Hollowghast grow closer every day, led by Mr. Barron- I’m sure you know who he is.”

“I do,” Peggy muttered, her hands curling into tight fists at her side. Hollowghast and Barron, here? It was her worst nightmares come true. She took a deep, shuddering breath, inadvertently filling her lungs with smoke. She choked it down, letting the burn in her throat bring her back to her senses.

“I’m not here to defend loops,” she told Miss Peregrine. “I’m here to defend weapons. I’m sorry.” Then she turned and was about to walk away, but Miss Peregrine crossed the room with lightning speed and grabbed her arm. Her nails were more like talons, and they dug into Peggy’s arm even through the thick wool of her uniform.

“Please,” Miss Peregrine said. “I need your help, Agent Carter. I must protect my children. I know you know the instinct, so I don’t understand why you are denying me. Ymbrynes are a sisterhood! We do not simply refuse when one of our own is in need.” Her clear blue eyes were lit from the inside with a ferocity that instantly kindled the same fire in Peggy. Miss Peregrine was right, if there was something Peggy understood better than anything else in the world, it was the urge to protect those in need. It was almost undeniable, but even if Peggy fought it, she doubted she could fight Miss Peregrine. She was about to say yes, her mouth opened, the words waiting on her tongue with birdsong, but she was suddenly arrested by a memory she had pushed down long ago into the darkest depths of her mind.

_ Gulping, tearing, rampaging, the Hollow made its way through the house, searching for Peggy and the rest of the children. She was ten years old, her tiny hand clutching onto Micheal’s with grim strength as they ran to catch up with the children, who were already hiding in the basement. Peggy’s ten year old mind could hardly comprehend what was happening, her feet were running but in her mind she was still in the dining room, staring stricken at Miss Finch’s lifeless body, the cavities which no longer contained her eyes, watching blood start to pool around her mutilated form. They were close, but the Hollow was closer, crashing through walls as if they were made of paper, an invisible force, seeking them out to satiate its mindless hunger. It smashed through a door and bits of plaster rained down as if it were snowing, white flakes sticking in Peggy and Micheal’s hair. Peggy couldn’t see the Hollow but she didn’t need to, she could feel it, feel its breath on her as it drew closer and closer and then--  _

Peggy blinked away the memory, meeting Miss Peregrine’s eyes once again. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t help you.” Then, ignoring the yawning pit of guilt which was beginning to open in her stomach, she walked away.


	2. introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy decides to help, and she meets the children. All the children, including Victor. She and Miss P share a few moments and grow closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoooooo chapter two!! sorry its been a bit since i posted this but this chapter is pretty long so i hope it makes up for it! i rlly like a lot of scenes in this chapter :)

Peggy went to breakfast like normal, but she could only pick at her food, and it wasn’t because the eggs resembled styrofoam and the bread was stale. It was because she couldn’t push the images of Miss Peregrine’s children out of her mind, frightened and cowering, hiding from an invisible monster. Scared and alone, just like she had been. The thought brought tears to her eyes, a lump in her throat making it impossible for her to eat her breakfast. She lasted about two more hours, at which point another image joined the gallery of imagined horrors filling her head: Miss Peregrine, lying on the floor, blood making her dark blouse even darker and her fierce blue eyes gone forever. Hollow, eaten, destroyed. 

Peggy caught Miss Peregrine just as she was boarding the ferry and ran to catch her, pushing people out of her way in her hurry to catch the boat. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she ran up the gangplank, her boots thumping on the weathered wood. Miss Peregrine watched her approach, sizing her up with those beautiful, disconcerting eyes. 

“Agent Carter,” she said as Peggy joined her at the railing. “I see you changed your mind.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Peggy said miserably. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything happened.”

“I understand,” said Miss Peregrine, gazing out at the churning sea. The mainland was receding as the ferry traveled into another bank of fog, but this was Cairnholm fog, so it was thicker and more present, like a living being or the misty breath of some long forgotten creature, perhaps the island itself was breathing. The ferry navigated slowly, and soon they were bumping up against the shore, suddenly surrounded by the skeletal silhouettes of other ships, sneaking up out of the fog. Peggy followed Miss Peregrine through the harbor, past the quaint but crumbly cottages, into the fields. They walked past sleepy sheep huddled together for warmth, and Peggy marveled at how it didn’t even feel like summer here. Here, the fog swept away the creeping fingers of time, and nothing ever changed except for the paint on the houses chipping a little more and the occasional birth of a sheep. Peggy wondered whether the hands on the clocks even moved, then shook herself out of her whimsical thoughts and found that they were stepping into the bog. Her boots squished deeper into the muck with every step she took, but Miss Peregrine seemed to know just where to go. When they emerged Peggy was covered up to her ankles in dark mud and Miss Peregrine’s boots barely had a speck of dirt on them. Thankfully the damp grass rubbed most of the mud off of Peggy’s boots as well as they set off towards a large house which was suddenly looming out of the distance. Its turrets spiraled towards the sky and its front garden stretched out to meet the moor, green grass blending smoothly with watery muck. The clouds gave it an atmospheric feeling, as if it were a fearsome beast, slumbering until some foolish soul woke it, but Peggy could see how, on a brighter day, the sun would sparkle on the glass roof of the greenhouse and the topiary animals would seem like giant toys instead of terrifying monsters. She followed Miss Peregrine up the worn stone staircase and inside. 

The second they stepped foot inside the house, Peggy knew something was wrong. Miss Peregrine, who had been deadly silent since they crossed the bog, had probably known it sooner. The great hall was eerily silent. Where were the children? Miss Peregrine seemed to be wondering the same thing, turning in a slow circle, surveying the great, empty hall. 

“Children!” she called finally, her voice echoing through the hollow space.  _ Hollow. _ That’s what it felt like, a hollow space, and Peggy shivered. But then a small door under the staircase that she hadn’t even noticed creaked open, and out filed a somber line of children, all clutching tight to one another. Miss Peregrine rushed to meet them, opening her arms to hug the smaller ones.

“My darlings,” she murmured. “What’s wrong?”

“We all hid,” said one girl, one of older ones, tugging at the gloves on her hands. “We tried to hide, and we thought we had everyone, but Victor… Victor…” She pressed a hand to her mouth and turned away, falling into the embrace of a tall, pale boy. 

“Was it Hollows?” Peggy asked, and all heads swivelled at once to look at her, the little ones shrinking behind Miss Peregrine and the older ones staring with a mix of hostility (the pale boy and a few others) and curiosity (the girl with the gloves and another blonde girl). 

“Yes,” answered the blonde finally. “It was.” There were grey shadows under her eyes, she’d cried her mascara right off. 

“Who are you?” asked a little girl in a pink dress, peering out from behind Miss Peregrine’s skirt.

“I’m Peggy Carter,” Peggy said. “I’m Miss Peregrine’s friend.” Miss Peregrine looked up to give Peggy an indecipherable look, a small smile playing on her lips. Peggy didn’t know how to respond, so she looked up at the children. “What are your names?”

“I’m Emma,” said the blonde girl. “That’s Olive,” she indicated the girl with the gloves “Claire,” she pointed at the little girl “Enoch,” the pale boy with his arm around Olive, “and Bronwyn.” She pointed at a girl who was staring down at the floor, standing apart from the children. There were silent tears running down her face. Miss Peregrine went to her immediately, and Peggy stood in front of the rest of the children, unsure of what to do. She didn’t even know most of their names, Emma had only mentioned a few. She’d never been very good with kids, so it was a relief when Emma said “It’s almost dinner time, we should get dressed.”

“Dinner? At a time like this?” scoffed Enoch. “There could still be Hollows out there, and you want us to dress for dinner?” Emma paused on her way to the stairs and awarded him a glare of such force, Peggy was surprised he didn’t burst into flames on the spot.

“When things aren’t normal,” she said firmly, “we do normal things.” Then she disappeared up the stairs. Peggy liked her already. After a moment’s consideration, the rest of the children trailed after her, with Bronwyn, still wiping her eyes, making up the rear. Miss Peregrine stood and called “Wait.” They all paused obediently on the staircase. 

“I will never leave you again,” Miss Peregrine promised. Her hands were clenched into tight fists at her side, and Peggy heard a slight tremble in her voice. “I am so sorry I did not protect you today,” she continued. “It will never happen again.” The children nodded soberly and disappeared the rest of the way up the steps.

Peggy was the only one who saw Miss Peregrine fall to her knees. She rushed and knelt next to her, pulling her into her arms as Miss Peregrine had done with Bronwyn just a minute before. Miss Peregrine let Peggy hold her, and Peggy could feel her shoulders shaking with sobs. 

“I should never have left them,” she whispered. “Never.”

“It’s not your fault,” Peggy promised. “It is no one’s fault but the Hollows and their creators.” Miss Peregrine nodded and sat back, wiping tears and mascara from her face. Her thick eyeliner was smudged, but Peggy didn’t tell her. She liked how fierce it made her look, a little rough around the edges. 

“I will find them, and I will kill them all,” Miss Peregrine swore, her voice as cold as steel. Peggy didn’t doubt her.

“I’ll help you,” Peggy said. “You are a good protector and an admirable woman, Miss Peregrine.”

“I think you can call me Alma,” she said with a watery smile.

“Then you must call me Peggy,” Peggy said, standing and offering her hand to Alma, who took it and pulled herself up. She held on for just a second too long, her fingertips brushing against Peggy’s palm and making Peggy shiver. For a second time seemed to slow and stretch around them, but then Alma looked away and the spell was broken. 

“We should change for dinner,” she said with a quick glance at Peggy’s muddy uniform. “I think I have something that will fit you.” She swept towards the staircase, and Peggy followed after a moment.

Peggy had never intended to follow Alma all the way inside her room, but that was what had happened, and now she didn’t know where to look first. The strange collection of objects on the ornate vanity? The framed photo on the bedside table? She carefully avoided letting her eyes rest on the big four poster bed, lest her face flush and betray her growing feelings toward a woman whom she had only known for a day. The woman who was currently rifling through her closet, muttering to herself. Every so often she glanced at Peggy, sizing her up, then turned back to the clothes, apparently dissatisfied with her imagination of how a particular dress would look. Finally she emerged holding an armful of satiny red fabric that drooped down like a waterfall. 

“Here,” she said, thrusting it towards Peggy. “I think it ought to fit, I bought it because of the fabric but it’s always been a little too big for me, especially in the…” She trailed off, her cheeks tinted with pink, eyes flashing to Peggy’s chest and then back up to her face. 

“Right. Yes. Thank you,” Peggy said, taking the dress and hurriedly stepping towards the door. “I’ll just go change then.”

“The bathroom’s down the hall, last door on the right,” Alma said. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

Peggy found the bathroom quickly, then stripped her uniform off and slid the dress over her head. When she turned to look in the mirror, her breath caught. The dress fit like it was made for her, the fabric slipping softly over her skin. Her hair was frizzy from late summer humidity but it didn’t matter. She didn’t want to brag but she looked amazing, and she wondered briefly what Alma would think before pushing the thought away. She might as well go downstairs and find out for real.

As it happened, though, Peggy never made it downstairs. There was a door at the end of the hallway, cracked slightly open, the thin stream of light beckoning to her. It took only a second before she was pushing the door open and stepping inside. 

The room was oppressively dim, void of any light save what little snaked through the heavy white curtains. In the middle was a child’s bed, and there was a child laying in it. At first Peggy thought he was asleep, but then she moved closer and saw the gaping holes where his eyes should have been, and she understood. This was Victor. Although he could not have been more different than Miss Finch, Peggy couldn’t help comparing the young boy to the elderly ymbryne who had been in charge of the loop where she’d grown up. They were both victims, not only of the Hollows, but of lies. Lies that said that loops were safe, that they were safe. Peggy sank down to sit on the bed, smoothing Victor’s hair with a trembling hand. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Victor just laid there, those empty, hollow eyes staring up at the ceiling without seeing a thing. Peggy suppressed a shiver, trying to choke back her tears and the flood of memories which was threatening to overtake her. But it was no use, not when she was faced with the very image that had been contained in her nightmares for so many years. If Victor’s hair was a little lighter, if he was a little older… he might as well be Micheal. Micheal, her brave, strong brother. Her memories of him were tainted now, each time she tried to remember him happy, laughing and making shadow puppets on the wall to comfort her when she couldn’t sleep, instead she pictured him like this. Like Victor. Dead and maimed, eyes nothing more than black holes, void of any feeling or familiarity. Gaping wounds across his body, flesh flapping loosely around bloody gashes, crimson liquid pooling around his lifeless body. Every horror she had seen in the war had only served to add more detail to her worst nightmares, taught her the truth of how she had left Micheal. Because she  _ had _ left him, running scared to safety, hardly a thought for the foolishly brave thirteen year old who, for the last time, gave up everything to protect her. 

Peggy hunched over, bowing like a branch under the weight of her grief, one hand resting lightly on Victor’s chest and the other pressed against her mouth to stifle her sobs. It was only at the sound of her name that she looked up. 

Alma was standing in the door, stunning in a gown of modest purple silk, watching Peggy with an expression of immense sadness and concern.

“I see you’ve met Victor,” she said softly, moving to sit by Peggy’s side. Peggy sniffled, wiping the tears off her face, as if she could somehow pretend she’d never been crying at all. 

“I have,” she replied. “He must have been very lovely.”

“He was. Not the smartest tool in the shed, but he was always so good with the little ones. And he and Bronwyn were so close…” Her voice broke. 

“He reminds me of my brother,” Peggy said. “He died. Protecting me, when it should have been the other way around. I should have been protecting him.” And suddenly the whole story was spilling from her lips, the first person she’d ever told, the first person who would understand. When she was done, Alma wrapped a gentle arm around her shoulders. 

“It’s not your fault,” she said firmly. “You were young. You did all that you could.” 

“Victor’s not your fault either,” Peggy murmured. “You’re better at being an ymbryne than I could ever be.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short. You may yet gain more experience,” Alma said, and Peggy could hear traces of a smile in her voice, although she didn’t know why. Peggy leaned closer, relishing the warmth from Alma’s body. She  _ felt _ like an ymbryne, a bird, lithe and strong, substantial despite the hollowness of her bones. When she glanced up, she accidentally met Alma’s eyes, and found herself caught in her tractor beam of a gaze. Hesitantly, Alma reached up and brushed an errant tear off of Peggy’s face. Her touch was feather light, leaving a trail of warmth. Peggy leaned into it, leaned forward, then caught herself. She couldn’t do this, not here, not now.

“We should go to dinner,” she said softly. “The children will be wondering where you went.”

“That’s if they even notice I’m not there,” Alma replied. “Roast goose has the power to distract even the most disciplined person.” 

Peggy was grateful to be able to laugh as they made their way out of the room. 


	3. promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy promises to stay and help Alma fight the wights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is short i'm sorry!! hope you like it anyway   
> also enoch is a jerk so that's that. enoch apologists don't come at me lmao

“Oh, you’re still here,” Enoch said, not quite to Peggy, as they walked into the dining room. She turned just in time to catch Alma shooting him a glare so sharp she was surprised it didn’t physically hurt him. 

“Agent Carter will be staying with us for a while,” she said as she sat down, and Peggy was forced to nod along. Clearly Alma had her own ideas about what was going to happen, and Peggy was in her territory now. She’d just have to go along with it. 

“Oh, goody,” Enoch said in reply.

“What’s got into you?” Olive asked, scrunching her nose at him from across the table. 

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the wight attack?” Enoch said, his voice scathing despite his lilting accent. “Maybe the fact that someone died today, and the Bird was off making new pretty friends?” 

There was a crash as Bronwyn got up so fast she knocked her chair over and rushed from the room, hands over her face. 

“Enoch!” Olive exclaimed. “That was uncalled for!” 

“Mr. O’Connor,” Alma said. “Please remove yourself from the table if you are not able to be kind to our guest and your fellow peculiars. Miss Elephanta is right, that was uncalled for. Agent Carter is going to help us fight the wights so no one else gets hurt. I hope you will understand that in the future and treat her with the respect she deserves.”

Enoch pushed himself away from the table, scowling. He was on his feet and halfway to the door before Peggy said “Wait. Enoch, wait.” 

“I don’t owe you anything,” he said, but he stopped, arms crossed, leaning towards the door. 

“You’re right,” Peggy said simply. “You don’t owe me anything. You don’t know me. I’ve come into your house at the worst possible time, and you are all dealing with your grief. I don’t mean to intrude, and if you want me to go, I will.” At this she heard someone’s sharp intake of breath, almost certainly Alma, but she didn’t look over at her. She had started out just speaking to Enoch, but now she was addressing all the children. She swallowed hard and continued. “I will, but before you decide, I want you to know something. I am going to do everything I can to help you fight this menace. Wights give all peculiars a bad name, and we cannot let them continue to do what they are doing. Someone has to fight, and if you let me, I will.” 

Silence spread through the dining room when she finished. She chanced a glance over at Alma and found her regarding her with such amazed fondness that Peggy almost had to look away. Instead she met her eyes and offered a small smile. Alma did not smile back, because almost all of her wards had their eyes on her, but she did incline her head slightly in an approximation of a nod. The light of the candles flickered. Finally Emma spoke up. 

“I want you to stay,” she said. “I don’t know about the rest of us, but it took guts to say that, and we need all the help we can get.”

One by one, everyone agreed with her. Even Enoch nodded and returned to the table. The rest of dinner continued in peace.

After plates had been cleared and dishes washed, the children filed into the parlor for movie night, but when Peggy started to follow them Alma caught her hand. 

“Agent… Peggy, what you said to my children,” she started, then paused, seeming to gather her words, or gather the strength for them. Her hand was warm on Peggy’s skin. “What you said, I hope you meant it.”

“Of course I meant it,” Peggy said instantly. “I never make promises I can’t keep.”

“I don’t believe that,” Alma countered, a melancholy smile gracing her face in a quick flash. Peggy drew in a breath, of course Alma was right.

“I never make promises I won’t try to keep,” she amended, and the smile returned, brighter this time. 

“So you’ll stay?”

“Yes.” The word leapt from her lips, tumbled out into the dim kitchen, crystallized the instant it hit the air, like blood turning from blue to red. “Yes, I’ll stay.” And then Alma’s lips were on hers, soft but insistent, and Peggy gave over, wrapping one arm around the other woman’s slim waist to pull her closer. Her breath stole out of her as time stretched on and on. Reality didn’t exist beyond the taste of Alma’s lips, the heat of her mouth, the feel of her body pressed against Peggy’s. She wanted to map it, memorize every curve and dip with her fingers, feel the warmth of her skin beneath the rough cloth. She traced the line of Alma’s hips and Alma sighed, a sound that sent a wave of warmth tingling down Peggy’s back. When they parted, Peggy nearly swept right back in, already mourning the loss, but a voice from the doorway stopped her.

“Miss Peregrine?” Both women turned to see Olive in the door, tugging at the top of her glove. Her face was flushed a bright pink. “I don’t mean to interrupt,” she stuttered.

“You’re not,” Alma said, smoothing her dress and turning to Olive. “What is it?”

“It’s Bronwyn, Miss. She says that we shouldn’t do movie night, and Enoch is egging her on, and I think Emma has the situation under control but--” A loud thump obscured the end of her sentence, and everyone jumped. 

“Capable as Miss Bloom is, it sounds as though she may need some help.” Alma strode out of the room, with Peggy following close behind.


End file.
